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Like trampled confetti, all of this is simply no longer fun.
There's no more color or splendor. The feeling of being in own element is suddenly gone. The air is stifling, sticky puddles cover the floor, dirty walls peek from underneath the heavy curtains; the place is ugly and unpleasant, and she's just so very tired of being here. Time to go and finish the evening someplace nicer, home possibly. Hanging around after winning a major pazaak tournament isn't the brightest idea anyway; and the sooner she leaves Nar Shaddaa, the sooner funds get allocated to the Alliance divisions.
Commander is itching to drop the ridiculous outfit she's been sporting tonight. Glamour of the event required equally glamorous looks; and so, she's wearing a close-fitting purple bodice adorned with golden sequins, paired with a matching overskirt; purple underskirt rustling with every step completes the costume. It all turns her into an instantly recognizable figure, as well as one easy to spot in the crowd. The selection was deliberate, meant to lull casino security into false confidence she can't really hide anything from them.
The woman does have a couple of secrets though, like a choice of concealed weapons - or, a deep knowledge of card tricks. So far only the latter proved useful, but one never knows. Especially that for most of the gameplay she's been having a nagging feeling of being watched. Security pays a lot of attention to high rollers, but it was something else; more focused, almost personal. This has every potential to turn very nasty, very soon -
You've been cheating. I don't know yet how, but I'm sure of it. You couldn't have possibly won the last deal with a hand like you've had!
There's a looming presence at Commander's shoulder. Were that just anybody, the person would get an elbow deep in gut at the accusation, followed by butt of blaster or a blade. This one man though, he has always been an exception, to pretty much everything. She spins to face him in a dazzling swirl of glittery fabrics, which could easily blind anyone else - and stares, as if blinded herself. He looks so incredibly good in that suit of black and purple; aptly elegant, not too distinctive nor flashy. A perfect attire for an intelligence operative on the job, one he apparently is tonight.
Theron takes in her sweaty skin and flushed cheeks with a disapproving frown. There are twinkles in his eyes though as he hands the woman tall glass of pearlescent liquid. When she accepts, he reaches and plucks out a piece of confetti from her cleavage, one of many stuck between the bodice cups. Commander giggles, giddy with joy of surprise meeting. She downs the sweet drink and brings up accusations of her own.
You've been watching me play? What are you, a spy or something?
Poor joke attempt is met with an unamused glare, so she sobers down. Anyway, you shouldn't be seen planetside, you said just yesterday. Why'd you change your mind?
Theron doesn't seem to be comfortable with whatever the truth is, as he stares off before answering. I was - worried. Needed to make sure you're getting out of this in one piece.
The vulnerable expression on his face takes her breath away. Learning how he cares about her safety so much more than about his own is a painful surprise, over and over again. It's unfair, in so many ways.
I'd be fine on my own,
Commander hastily assures. You shouldn't have risked coming. I know what I'm doing.
For some reason, there's still doubt in that gaze. But why?
Listen, I'm perfectly capable of handling angry casino mob of any size. Got a lot of practice, you can ask my crew.
Playful sparkles return into his eyes, as Theron sniggers at the mental image.
This used to be my life, you know. Gambling my way through the galaxy, day after day. Come to think about it, it still is. Winning impossible odds, cheating death, doesn't it sound familiar? It's your life, too. We're both in this.
Not the best place or moment for her to say such serious things, and it hurts to see the smile gone again. But the two of them need to be eventually on the same page regarding this irrational, overwhelming urge to protect each other at any cost. One day, the price might be too high, with someone innocent forced into paying.
It's so scary when we need to face dangers separately. I still need to learn how to deal with it, and so do you. Just please, let's not start another paranoia trip.
Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. We've been through this before, a couple of times already.
Shame briefly clouds the man's face before he hangs head down.
An ankle kick makes him look at her in shock, though what her partner needs more is a solid ass kick. Probably it's what each would need at the moment anyway, even if just for souring the mood. Listen, I'm not asking you to stop caring. Please, do not ever let me go without you caring. But we can do that in a bit more reasonable way, can't we?
He solemnly nods. Good. They will probably have this conversation some time soon again. In fact, next time she might be the one nodding, as her own attempts at reasonable ways are about just as futile. But for now, they're good.
Commander fetches a waiter to swap empty glass for fresh one and downs its fizzy contents, then motions Theron to do the same. When she thinks their voices steady enough, changes the subject. So, where's your bolthole? Couldn't see you at all. I knew somebody's been out there, but had no idea where exactly.
There's a hint of professional pride in the smile that's very pale otherwise. Years ago I've borrowed passcode to a nice vantage point. Thanks to the sloppy security here, it still works. Come, you're going to love the view.
Lead the way, master spy,
the woman grins.
What starts as a mildly annoyed snort, turns into chuckle fast. Then, Theron does lead the way; zigzagging past the crowd, going a convoluted path around columns, to a side wall; behind dusty curtains, through door opening into a dark staircase.
The view is breathtaking, indeed.
Excitement of getting into a restricted area helps to look at things with a fresh eye, as the buzz from alcohol does. Somehow, from up this high, the event regains some of its initial glamour. The distance obscures ugly details of the gaming hall, while keeping superficial colors and shine vivid. This place itself must've been considered luxurious in its glory days - small box but a comfortable one, above most of the hustle but not too far from it. Now it's just a forgotten, poorly lit balcony area with a clear view of the tables below. A logical choice for surveillance spot, she has to admit. Good to know her instincts are still quite sharp, if the woman could tell somebody was on her - even if from this far away.
Tell me, have you been cheating tonight?
Commander nearly jumps. The sweetly-scented gust of air against side of face is a pleasant sensation, just a bit too startling one. Lost in thoughts she almost forgot not being alone anymore. So much for sharp instincts...
Her waist is being wrapped around with steadying arms while the man continues questioning. Have you been cheating, or am I just such a great lucky charm?
Each word is accentuated with a kiss, forming a path from behind ear down along the neck.
If he's trying to pry the info from her, he needs to try harder; if he's trying to make amends for overshielding - well, he truly needs to try harder. But, apparently, he's willing to try for as long as it takes. And, she's not the kind of person to fight against rush of blood induced by such a considerate and loving touch.
Theron pulls her close with back flat against his chest. His hands roam free all over front of her body. After plucking out some more stray confetti pieces, he sets on squeezing and kneading her clothed breasts. It's anyone's guess if bodice can hold up to the attention; or can its intricate clasps be opened easily in dim lighting. Something has to be done about the damn thing though. All that fabric is already more irritating than ever, being a barrier between oversensitive skin and hands of the lover.
Thrills of the day topped with alcohol decide for her; the woman finds a bold alternate route and follows it at once. She fists at skirts and hikes them up over the hip, then props foot against the railing; a way to give access, but also to keep bunched up clothes in place. The actions reveal narrow strips of textile passing for underwear, just as flimsy and impractical as the whole of her current attire. Over the rustling of fabric she can clearly hear how the man staggers on his breath. He seems to marvel at something - either the idea or the view - for a moment, then reaches out.
Hot palm snakes around the hip and moves the lingerie out of the way; other hand slides between the legs and dips. Finding the slick elicits a groan out of Theron's throat. The unexpected sound alone sends a strong wave of shivers down her the spine, against his hands. The man clearly knows exactly already what she wants and how she wants it. He works his clever fingers the way that always makes her dizzy fast. It's a mixture of probing and stroking; long slides alternating with tight circles; each purposeful, but gentle. And then, there comes that special twist up inside that makes her see stars, and her knees almost give up - almost.
That's the exact point where she really needs to know if he's just as hungry for her, just as eager for another step. The woman leans hard against him and cranes neck to catch a corner of her lover's lips. What she receives in response is a kiss that would leave bruises, were it just a tad more intense.
No more confirmations necessary.
It's far past the point where anything less would be satisfying enough, anyway. She wriggles out of the hold, plants both feet firmly on the ground and throws skirts over her back, almost up her head. She's oblivious to whomever might notice from crowd down below, being interested in partner's reaction only. When she peeks behind, the fire in Theron's eyes says it all. He's already fumbling with belt, cursing under the breath - at the slippery fingers perhaps, or maybe at the strained wrist. It's irrelevant; he's in hurry and she appreciates. Commander barely gets a hold of the railing when he plunges. It loudly creaks at their weight combined. If she weren't too consumed with bliss, she'd have a laugh.
Couple of beats pass on pure joy of being so completely united again. Theron initially almost crumples over her, but soon regains the composure, grabbing the woman's hips so hard there might be bruises involved after all. Each of them is ready to counter movements of the other - push by push, grind by grind. Not the perfect circumstances, perhaps, although the pleasure is overwhelming all the same. The unrelenting pace they've picked up is sure to wear them down fast, but pursuing the release currently makes the sole focus. And when release comes, it nearly knocks them down both, it's so powerful and sudden. With railing being any lower she'd fall over it; as it is, she's hanging onto it for dear life, moaning into own forearm. At the same time, his roar is muffled with face hard pressed against her shoulder blade, over the flipped up skirts.
Next minutes stretch out into infinity, time finally permitting some laziness for chasing the afterwaves. It's such a bubble of peaceful satisfaction: him curled around her; his arms crossed over her chest, her arms folded over his arms; slowly rocking in a corner between the balustrade and the wall; far from reality, far from letting the other go.
A lucky charm? No way,
the woman eventually pants out. In the end, it wasn't a question she'd like to leave unanswered. Though she would answer quicker if it wouldn't be so hard to speak when breathless and dizzy.
You know how the saying goes, those lucky at cards have no luck in love. Turns out it actually works, just the other way round. There you are, so I need to help my luck at cards a little. Well, a lot.
Theron laughs, but tightens the hold and stills for a long moment. It takes a while before he clears the throat.
Don't want to move yet, but I might've forgotten to lock the door. We'd better go somewhere more civilized anyway, if we'd like to continue. Or, at least, if you'd like a shower.
He's dead right on both accounts, and so annoyingly smug about it. She untangles from the embrace with a faked outrage. Couldn't you say I stink just a bit earlier, before going all handsy? You animal!
She swats playfully at his palms when he assists in smoothing down the skirts. Overskirt covers well the stained bottom layer, which was never meant to act as a towel; but, at least, it finally had some practical value, Commander smirks.
There comes an afterthought - there's no way they were not spotted, making out just above balcony balustrade first, then almost passing out over it. And, they do make a bit too memorable a couple when slipping out of the place; mussed, flushed and grinning like idiots. Luckily, it's not a sight all that uncommon at similar events. Been there, seen that, done it a few times too. Nothing's wrong with that. It is very curious though, how such an unplanned, slightly drunk encounter made her feel so insanely happy. Or, how it made her so very impatient for more.
Most probably, because one-night stands were just that; one time entertainment, briefly scratching an itch, nothing else to it. But this, just now, is a part of something much bigger. From the very beginning, it has been something bigger, with a past and a future. And, whatever the future holds, there is Theron in it. Meaning, there is so much more to await, so much more to give and to receive. For now, though -
The woman is equally looking forward to both, having a shower and having more sex; both with her beloved actively participating, definitely, just in no particular order. So, even when getting quite a bit of meaningful looks and laughter on the way out of the casino, Commander couldn't care less. She already got so much more than she came for, and the night is far from over yet.